


Other Paths Prequel 1: Nameless

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 04:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Other Paths Prequel 1: Nameless

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Other Paths: Nameless by Alicia and Te

Nameless  
a T&A production  
6/98  
Disclaimers: Skinner and Krycek most assuredly do not belong to us. But Thursday's Poker Night....  
Spoilers: Nary a one. Pre-XF.  
Rating Note: NC-17 just because it's our fic and would you expect anything less at this point? Language and m/m relations.  
Dedication: For Kass, Mistress of Skinner blackmail (it's true, Alicia will do *anything* for more Training, and Te will very kindly help her), and for Sister Blue because Te said so.   
Archiving Info: Ask first. (No to Gossamer)  
Authors' Note: Thanks go to Woodinat and CiCi and Kass for helpful comments ... and CiCi *especially* for the mirror.  
Feedback: Welcomed and purred over at and 

* * *

Nameless  
by Alicia and Te

******

Walter Skinner strode down the darkened street, paying little attention to his surroundings. Yet another fight with Sharon. It was only a matter of time, wasn't it? But neither of them was ready to make that final break, admit the marriage that had once seemed so permanent was dead and buried, had been for some time.

Walking, walking, eyes focused inward until he could no longer take what he saw there and forced himself to look around.

//How did I get *here*?//

Slightly rundown area, not really dangerous, but not exactly the neighborhood he usually frequented.

//Not recently, anyway.//

On the street corners, loitering in front of businesses, well-built young men. Dressed in formfitting jeans of various shades, skintight T-shirts. Boots of many shapes and styles. Leather jackets slung over shoulders in the warmth of the early summer evening.

Walter knew he should turn around and go home--or at least go elsewhere. He was going to do so, pivoting on his heel to head back the way he'd come, when he saw him standing in the lamplight.

Tall, had to be 6 foot even without the well-worn black engineer-type boots. Standard uniform of tight white T-shirt and faded jeans with strategically placed holes. Dark hair, cropped short and dry-styled, showing off a face so innocent-looking it would have defied belief in less seedy surroundings than these. No jacket for this one--maybe he just wanted to show off his admirable arms, but combined with that angelic face the effect was of the one good boy amidst all the other hustlers. Walter wondered if the image was calculated. Probably. This one looked young, but not so young he didn't know precisely what he was doing.

He shifted course without thinking, and the words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. "You. Let's go."

Walter watched the plush-looking lips purse a bit as the younger man gave him the once-over. The guarded eyes registered no surprise at his obviously tailored clothes, merely a bland, world-weary amusement that did nothing to raise his estimation of the boy.

//Not that that matters.//

The younger man shifted a little, letting the harsh glare of the streetlight catch him to what was, arguably, his best advantage before speaking. "What do you want?"

There was no slur, no cheap accent to the words, and for a moment Walter froze, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but then the boy spoke again.

"C'mon, sir... we don't have all night. Or, do we?" A slow dip and lift of thick lashes, and a voice whose education had suddenly been well and truly coated with sex. 

Walter raised a hand to the smooth cheek, gratified when the lips parted just a bit, the sharp, pink tongue sweeping briefly over the mouth. He let his fingers drift over the younger man's face before allowing them to settle on an ear. A brush of a thumb over the curiously unpierced lobe, an experimental tug. "Assume we have all night."

A sharp intake of breath was quickly masked by the sultrily professional words. "Three hundred. Kinks extra. Money on the nightstand."

"Done." He turned and began to walk away, not looking to see if the boy would follow.

"Uh... Sir... the motel--"

Without breaking stride: "We won't be staying there."

"B-but--"

It was good to hear the note of uncertainty in the little rentboy's voice ... good to have that confirmation of control. He turned in the middle of the deserted street, watched the younger man hesitate. "I have no great love for fleas, boy. We'll be staying at *my* hotel." He made as if to continue walking. "Is there a problem?"

Alex paused fractionally, then shrugged. "No, *sir*." He caught up to the older man just as they reached the main thoroughfare. "For the record, sir, you can call me--"

Walter snorted in amusement as a cab rolled up in response to his hail. "For the record.... For the *night* ... I can and will call you anything I want."

******

The cab ride passed silently. Alex surmised, correctly, that the older man would not want to provide the driver with any more gossip than necessary, and although in some circumstances he would have found it amusing to do something outrageous just to see what kind of response he could provoke from his companion, he judged discretion would be the better course this time.

In less than five minutes they were pulling up in front of a middle-of-the-road chain hotel. Alex hung back in the lobby as the older man checked them in, then followed him into the elevator. Arriving at the room, Alex walked in and paused. "So, what do you want?"

"Get in the shower."

"Hey, I'm clean, you don't need to--"

"Who's in charge here?" More a growl than a question, and Alex's mouth closed on the remainder of his words. "I said, get in the shower."

"Yes, sir." Subdued tone, but with a hint of something underneath. "... but I'd like to see the money first."

Walter felt a surge of anger at the insubordination, but squelched it. The boy wasn't asking for anything out of the ordinary. Pulling out his wallet, he yanked out three $100 bills and tossed them on the bedside table. In a reasonable facsimile of his normal tone he replied, "There. Now, into the shower."

The boy nodded, producing lube and condoms from his pocket and placing them atop the currency as if to seal the transaction before seating himself on the bed and beginning to tug at his boots. He looked up through the curtain of his lashes and asked, "Will you be joining me?"

The seductive pose *had* to be practiced, but Walter couldn't deny that it worked. If a small portion of his mind had begun to clamor for attention, calling out that this was an incredibly stupid thing to be doing, that he could still walk away and go home with some semblance of honor--well, those calls faded away to inaudibility when he met wide, faux-innocent green eyes, when he let his own vision roam over smooth muscles, now being bared for his enjoyment.

But there was a script to this ... rhythms and motions made no less traditional for their tawdriness. Walter leaned back against the dresser opposite the bed, bored his gaze into the other man's, crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

"Anything you say, sir." And with that he stood, boots and socks finally toed off, and positively wriggled out of the T-shirt. Walter shifted his pose, watched the play of dim lamplight over the lean muscles while he knew the fabric would be concealing him from the other man's view. He then shifted his gaze just to the side, affecting a pretense of boredom while he studied the play of the boy's shadow on the beige wall. Simple movements, gracefully executed. Walter wondered how much he charged to dance.

"Did you want me to ... do anything in particular, sir?"

Caught in his reverie. Walter felt the heat of the younger man at his side, detected the scent of some surprisingly subtle cologne. The older man sighed, briefly regretting the order to shower. But as he turned to meet those eyes, strangely olive in this dim light, he stood firm. As ... cheap ... as this all was, the last thing he wanted was the taste of some other lonely man on his prize. 

"Just get yourself clean."

Thought slammed home with the click of the bathroom door. Something about that sound, that assumption of privacy by his (albeit temporary) property, bothered him deeply even as he moved to sit on the bed. 

//This isn't the way it's supposed to go....//

Crow screech in tinder starlight. Motel so bare of amenities it felt like home ... like the barracks a 

//safe//

full 30 miles in the other direction. Lithe and sexy this one was ... a sway, a seduction on legs and when he'd walked--no, sauntered-- into the bar Walter had swallowed hard and wished for his 

//You an Indian, sugar?//

black hair back to hide the flush he'd known he sported. Cheap beer down a dry throat, awkward proposition coyly accepted. He remembered gentle fingers working him to a frenzy, a laugh hovering in the still air, chirping in just that range of indeterminacy that frightened him deeply and made him ache to fuck. And a slender hand on his chest pushing him back. Confusion, fear ... but the man had smiled over his shoulder before gliding to the bathroom. And closing the door. A flood of relief as he realized he wouldn't be left like this but the closed door was maddening. Walter had found himself battering it open again, faced with the image of the man wiping eyeliner away with damp tissue. A brief frown followed by an indulgent smile ...

"Mais bien sur, sugar. The customer is always right."

The snick of the bathroom door recalled him from his memories and in dripped the rentboy, naked, grinning, and holding the towel out to him.

"Thought you might want to dry me ... sir."

This boy had a little too much attitude. Was this the vogue nowadays? No matter, he'd make it clear who was in charge--but then again, looking at the hard body positioned before him, waves of moist heat bringing him the scent of hotel soap and still a hint of that cologne, could he really complain?

//He couldn't charge extra to dance. He does it just by breathing.//

"No, I think you can dry yourself." Hold those green eyes, don't waver. "Right here."

The mouth that had begun to form a pout at his first words now relaxed into a knowing smile.

//Have to think of something appropriate to show him he doesn't know everything.//

"Whatever you want ... sir." That voice again, musical and all male, sending the blood surging through him even before the boy raised the towel and began his performance.

Well-muscled arms raised the towel, covered the face just long enough to blot the larger drops from his cheeks, then moved the cloth gracefully down over chest and shoulders, one arm and then the other. No overt posturing, but nonetheless clearly a conscious display of a body that no onlooker could fail to admire. Slip the prop behind the back, flex the shoulders and hips. Then he bent to dry one slim foot and ankle, stroke upwards over a lightly-furred calf and thigh, and Walter had to bite back a groan. He managed to hold himself still while the boy repeated the moves with the other leg, but when the towel came up higher, the white material highlighting the ruddy sac and half-erect penis, he couldn't wait any longer.

"That's enough." Voice a little too hoarse, and the look in the boy's eyes showed he'd noticed. No help for it, though; just keep going. "Over here."

******

An unreadable glance, so quick he thought he might have imagined it, and then the boy was kneeling between his legs, efficiently unfastening his belt and opening his trousers. "Pants off, or on?"

Walter grabbed the younger man's hands, took a moment to savor the sensation of soft flesh sliding over bone and muscle. "Off. Shoes and socks first."

Alex sat back on his heels and kept his eyes down as he unlaced first one shoe, then the other. Walter couldn't restrain the shudder that racked his form as a slender finger traced the arch of his foot. When the socks had been removed, Alex planted a kiss on the bone of each ankle before resting the feet comfortably on his thighs. Walter felt the tickle of sparse hair, flesh warm and damp from the shower and budding arousal. He indulged himself by kneading the firm muscles for a time, catching the brief grunts and rolls of his companion as a toe skidded close and 

candy falling from the sky it felt like rain hard and oily ... bittersalt tang in the air and explosions were rocking Walter's frame mercury gumdrops and sugarsweet bullets catching here and there as 

he watched the boy struggle and strain from his awkward position for more contact. Walter felt drunk on this languid debauch, cool cool canned air so dangerous crackling with ozone as thunder raged outside. He wondered if this strange little foot massage counted as a kink.... It would almost be worth it for this. The young man was a natural, never moving off his knees, arms at his sides, using only his torso and pelvis to strain toward the skidding, taunting feet ... but no. Walter abruptly removed his feet, planted them to either side of the younger man's thighs, and stood. 

The boy looked briefly stunned, but recovered quickly to kneel up and finish the work of removing Walter's trousers. As soon as he had stepped out of them, he settled back on the bed, spreading his legs. The young man wasted no time, sliding up the nubbled coverlet using only leanly muscled arms to pull him the distance, a gesture both playful and sensuous ... impossible to observe without imagining the pull of rough cotton and polyester across hard nipples, dipping ticklishly into the navel, dragging, loose threads catching and tugging.... The first touch of tongue to his thigh made him shiver.

Walter reached down to try to grip the boy's short hair, but it simply flowed like sharp water through his fingers and he settled for cupping the base of the skull. A guiding tug and the tongue moved to his balls, sucking and rolling them within wet heat.... It was eminently clear that this boy was determined to earn his money. Walter relaxed as much as possible, throwing one arm behind his head as he ran his fingers down the boy's neck and shoulder. 

There were hands on his thighs, lips on his cock ... tiny sucking kisses more reminiscent of a succubus than anything else. Walter closed his eyes, losing himself in the fantasy of some invisible demon of smoke and lust. He allowed his hips the freedom to separate themselves from his roving mind, leaving it to the boy to steady them, if he could. But he was growing impatient....

"Suck me. Now."

A pause, an increase in pressure on his thighs, and then he was swallowed whole. Thoughts raced and flitted through his mind but the sensation chased everything away. There was nothing but his cock and this wonderfully obliging hole, rough little tongue working hard against the underside, throat contracting on the head. Walter could hear deep groans, knew on some level that they were his own.

//Too soon.//

The older man grabbed hold of his self and *pulled*, dragging his consciousness beyond the white noise while literally dragging the younger man's mouth off his cock.

"Wh-what? Did I do something wrong?"

Breathless and flushed, lips swollen. A beautiful boy, really. Walter eased the pressure on the younger man's hair, smoothed his knuckles down the soft cheek without being fully aware of what he was doing. 

"This isn't everything I want from you."

Green eyes focused smilingly on his own. "Of course, sir. How do you want it?"

"Hands and knees."

Walter watched the boy arrange himself off to the side; languidly ran a finger across the lightly tanned shoulder, down the rib cage before pinching the nearest nipple lightly. The ensuing gasp sent a renewed spike of arousal through his own body and the older man took a deep breath before reaching over for the supplies. The brush of shirttails over bare thighs as he positioned himself reminded him abruptly of his questionable state of attire, but he really couldn't bring himself to care. He rolled on a condom and tossed the lube onto the bed, cataloging the utter stillness of the younger man with a mixture of approval and disappointment.

It occurred to him that it was entirely possible no one had ever stopped the boy mid-blowjob before. Walter smirked inwardly at the thought of a hustler with performance anxiety, letting the cold humor bring him back to some semblance of control before allowing himself to caress the downy cheeks. Toyed with the idea of peeling off another hundred for the right to beat that pretty little ass raw; squeezed hard instead. The boy pressed back into the touch, wriggling a bit in encouragement, and Walter had to swallow hard not to go with the impulse.

//This isn't going to last very long.//

Walter grabbed the tube and slicked his fingers, not bothering to take the time to try to warm the gel. A cool finger down the crack and the boy jumped a bit.

"Hold still."

Walter heard the teeth click together; had another moment of dissonance as he wondered just who had taught this boy how to behave. Speculation dissolved quickly at the boy's small hiss when he pierced the ring of muscle. Walter found himself deeply fascinated by the sight of his finger disappearing and reappearing; amused himself by adjusting pressure and speed while adding digits. The boy began to moan steadily, working himself back against Walter's hand and muttering almost incomprehensibly under his breath.

"Please...."

The older man looked up to see the hustler tossing his head slightly, fingers gripping the tangled coverlet in time with his thrusts, whole body damp with sweat ... it was beautiful. He raked the internal gland one last time before slipping out gently and slathering lube on his cock. Walter groaned at his own touch, wondered how the steady ratchet of his own arousal had gone unnoticed. An interminable, excruciating slow rock and he was buried to the hilt, panting and flexing, struggling to hold on.

So good so good slick and tight and this boy must not have been on the streets very long ... firm buttocks pale under his hands and he backthrust harshly, watching the boy's head snap back in reaction and relishing the accompanying groan. Then sliding, slowly, losing himself yeah this is what I wanted within the heat and pressure and friction and there really was nothing else was there, nothing other than this and now and here and more....

Walter braced himself on the headboard and began slamming into the younger man in earnest. Small whimpers from below sending him higher and higher. Suddenly he felt muscles bear down on him hard ... and that was all it took to drive him over the edge. 

Moments, minutes later he found himself crushing the uncomplaining man into the mattress and he rolled off gently, discarding the condom with a small moue of distaste. After a while his companion rolled onto his back, made preparatory movements to stand. He was still rock hard. The sight dashed cold water on Walter's afterglow. It was an unwelcome reminder of the cheapness of this act, a niggling snark about his performance. He grabbed the younger man by the shoulder.

"Where are *you* going?"

Alex froze briefly at the question, then turned and raised an eyebrow. 

Walter slid a hand down the damp torso, tugged a bit at the treasure trail before stroking the younger man's cock idly. "I paid for the whole night." A flip of his thumb over the head; a truly gratifying buck. "I expect the whole night."

A stifled chuckle. "Yes, sir."

Walter squeezed and the chuckle was strangled off. "Come with me."

Wide-eyed confusion ... the desire to kiss the younger man was wholly inappropriate but impossible to deny. Walter contented himself by diving at the vaguely golden throat and sucking hard, tasting salt and heat and man. He could feel the moan tremble against his lips and forced himself to pull off. He stood and shed the rumpled dress shirt, finally. Brief concern over how to explain its

//scent//

condition was hastily quashed. The way the boy was staring at his chest made his cock twitch far, far too soon. Walter crooked a finger and walked to the closet door, sensing the younger man hesitate a moment before following. There was a mirror here ... and this was a lesson the hustler needed to learn.

"Stand in front of me."

The younger man complied, and Walter slipped his hands under the leanly powerful arms and began to massage the muscles of the chest and belly, watching the reaction in the mirror. A brief pinch of the nipples made the boy groan and, as Walter expected, blush and look away.

"What are you ashamed of?"

One hand left the chest to wander southward, begin a rough rhythm of strokes.

"Sir?"

"Look at yourself."

Walter waited until he was meeting the green eyes in the mirror again before removing the stroking hand to rake short nails up the boy's belly. The muscles twitched and jumped under his fingers, and hips thrust helplessly, flush rising and spreading. Walter rewarded the response by slipping his hand back down to cup his companion's balls, using his other arm to pull the boy closer as he tugged and teased.

It wasn't especially fair to ask difficult questions, but something about the feel of that blush-hot ear against his lips made him speak without thinking. "Who are you, really?"

Green eyes widened in alarm, and the body under his hands stiffened almost imperceptibly.

"No, you don't have to answer." His hand moved back to the weeping cock; the gorgeous moans began again. "It's not especially important. But it's become clear to me that you haven't been trained correctly."

Some animal sound that might have been a question, and Walter began to stroke faster.

"It's true. You have a little too much shame for this. Not that I mean to critique. Hardly. I'm enjoying myself immensely." He glanced up to find that the eyes had closed; the young man had braced himself against Walter and was bucking mindlessly into his fist. He pulled his hand off and the eyes shot open again. Walter let his hand hover over the bobbing cock; watched the anger, the confusion flash through the other man's eyes, the chest heave with pants, and smiled internally. "Paying attention?" A nod. "Good." He let the other man settle himself again; welcomed the hand on his supporting arm with a lick at the ear. 

"Now, where was I?" The boy thrust helpfully at the empty air, and Walter laughed quietly. He circled the cock again; felt fingers tighten on his arm. The eyes stayed open this time. "We, your ... employers ... are looking for a quick, easy fuck. That much is true--but that's not all." He let his hardening cock slip between the still-slick cheeks and rocked.

"Oh, God..."

"For any number of reasons our worlds lack something. We pay you not only to take the edge off, but to share a little of yourself with us.... It's not so much to ask, is it?"

"Yes ... no...."

Walter chuckled again and shifted, rubbing himself in the hot little haven, stroking faster. "So I ask you to look at yourself right now, as I see you. Flushed, panting ... sweating and hard. For me, now. Or maybe just for yourself?" The boy had bitten his own lip hard enough to draw a tiny bit of blood. It was too much; he pulled the younger man's head back and to the side for an awkward, utterly forbidden kiss, forcibly stilling his own hips so he could feel the insistent bucks of the other man. "There's a ... long and noble tradition in this, my Narcissus. We all need a little beauty in our lives...."

There were going to be bruises on his arm tomorrow but he didn't, couldn't care. This wildness in his arms, this raw animal of muscle and sex.... "Come for me."

A moment's hesitation, again, but then, just as Walter was beginning to wonder whether the boy's abandon was merely another part of his act (and the earlier hesitation, too?), the body in his arms shuddered violently, then erupted in spasm upon spasm of orgasm, the young man wrenching and groaning as his come spattered his chest, Walter's hand, the mirror and the floor before them.

Walter braced his feet as the boy slumped back against him for a moment. Very nice. When the long lashes fluttered and those glowing eyes began to refocus, he gently urged the young man back to the bed. Time for round two.

******

As the beginnings of daylight began to filter in through the edges of the curtains, Alex slipped out of bed and began to pull on his clothes. Overexerted muscles, stiffened after an hour or so's sleep, protested mildly, but he knew he'd be fine after a shower and some time in the gym.

Pocketing the cash and one unused condom, he looked closely at the older man, gauging the depth of his unconsciousness. They'd both gotten a good workout over the past hours, and the man had to be at least 10 years his senior, but Alex knew better than to assume an opponent was helpless. Still, as he listened to the deep, steady breathing, he judged it was worth the risk. Reaching quietly into the pocket of the other man's discarded trousers, he pulled out the wallet and flipped it open. His eyes momentarily widened, then crinkled in amusement.

//Well, isn't that interesting. Walter Skinner, FBI. You do meet the most intriguing people in this line of work.//

No wonder the guy had gotten off so well on his little innocent act. Power play written all over him, and now Alex had a better idea why. He replaced the wallet carefully and quickly, then glanced around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. 

//Well, Mr. Skinner, *A.D.* Skinner, it certainly has been a pleasure. Until we meet again ... which may be sooner than you think.//

He made sure the door closed quietly behind him as he left.

******

End


End file.
